


yes, i do the cleaning

by businessboyjared



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Dirty Talk, Domestic Bliss, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/businessboyjared/pseuds/businessboyjared
Summary: They’re married, they’ve both seen everything, but Richie’s lack of shame is something Eddie aspires to, really. “Sorry, fuck, I didn’t hear you—”“There’s still dirty dishes in the sink and you’re masturbating?” Eddie says flatly.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 22
Kudos: 350





	yes, i do the cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> this was fully inspired by a tweet i saw the other day that just said "dishes aren't done but You Are masturbating?" sooooooo yeah <3
> 
> title from whatever song it is that nicki minaj says "yes i do the cooking, yes i do the cleaning" lmao

Eddie can’t help but let the door to their apartment slam shut behind him when he gets home. It’s been an awful fucking day from the moment he woke up thirty minutes late, to all the shitheads who tried to cut him off in morning traffic, to his fucking irritating coworkers that always want to talk to him in the elevator or whatever. He kicks his shoes off and loosens his tie a smidge before closing his eyes and attempting some breathing exercise his therapist told him about last week. In, hold, out, hold. It sort of works. His shoulders don’t feel so severely pinched, at least.  
  
He drops his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter. And then his eyes fall to the mess of dishes in the sink, still left over from last night, and it immediately feels like the worst thing in the world he could possibly look at right now. In, hold, out, hold. It’s fine. It’s annoying, but it’s fine. Eddie had definitely asked Richie to wash them sometime today, because they were both too tired and lazy last night, and Richie probably just got busy today, or caught up in his writing or something. It’s really fine. If he was in college, he would have rolled his sleeves up that moment and washed them as loudly and passive-aggressively as possible. Now, he just wants to bug the shit out of his husband until he concedes defeat.  
  
“Richie? You home?” He calls out on his way down the hallway to their bedroom. The door’s open, which isn’t anything new, but he hears some sort of… wet noise coming from their room. The implications of it make the tips of his ears go hot. He rounds the corner and freezes in the doorway, left with nothing to do but stand there and stare at Richie, who is currently on their bed and fully jerking off.  
  
“Eddie!” Richie yelps. He’s got his phone in his left hand and yanks his earbuds out. The hand gripping his dick slows to a stop, but he doesn’t bother trying to cover himself up. They’re married, they’ve both seen everything, but Richie’s lack of shame is something Eddie aspires to, really. “Sorry, fuck, I didn’t hear you—”  
  
“There’s still dirty dishes in the sink and you’re masturbating?” Eddie says flatly, though he knows Richie can see the way his eyes are roaming hungrily. Richie’s shirtless and only has his boxer briefs pulled halfway down his thighs. He looks kind of sweaty, and Eddie swallows thickly at the thought of Richie going at this for longer than strictly necessary, like he wanted to really draw it out for himself. Eddie can’t take his eyes off Richie’s dick, standing at attention and hard as a fucking rock in his fist. Richie squeezes himself to show off a little, gives an aborted thrust of his hips, which makes Eddie whine quietly in the back of his throat.  
  
Richie strokes himself slowly, squeezes hard again on the way up and swipes a thumb over the head before he remembers Eddie asked him a question. “Uhh… yes?”  
  
“Were you watching porn?” Eddie’s eyes fall to Richie’s phone. He slips his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt, fingers moving slowly down his chest. Richie watches owl-eyed from the bed and his hand starts to move faster over his dick.  
  
“No, fuck, I was—” Richie cuts himself off with a gasp when Eddie slips his shirt off at a glacial pace, teasing him with the bare skin of his shoulders before the shirt falls to the floor and his whole chest is on display for him now. Eddie moves closer to the bed so that his knees touch the end of it, and Richie watches him drag a hand up his chest and rub his thumb over one of his nipples. The sigh Eddie lets out at the feeling makes Richie’s dick twitch. “ _Fuck_ , Eddie. I wasn’t watching porn, I was watching the… the video you sent me. Last month.”  
  
Eddie’s eyes go dark at that. He knows what video Richie’s talking about. He’d recorded it in their bed, right where Richie was laying. Richie had already been on tour for two weeks at the time, and Eddie was surprised he’d held out for that long before he was absolutely desperate to get fucked. He sent Richie a video of himself jerking off while he licked and sucked at the tip of one of their dildos, because he knew that extra bit would really drive Richie wild. Thinking about it now, Eddie’s surprised to find himself feeling more horny than embarrassed. After he’d come, Eddie had sent Richie the video and then deleted it permanently from his phone and his memory. But apparently, it’d become a regular feature of Richie’s spank bank. He was kind of proud of himself.  
  
Eddie hums and lets his hand trail from his nipple down toward his crotch, where he was definitely getting hard in his slacks. Richie jerks himself faster, eyes darting between Eddie’s hand palming over himself and his eyes, which were laser focused on Richie.  
  
“You like watching me get off?” Eddie asks him. He unbuttons his pants but doesn’t take them off, just lets his hand slip beneath the waistband to touch himself over his underwear. Richie whines loudly, both at Eddie’s question and the fact that his view is now obstructed.  
  
“ _Yes_ , fuck, you’re so sexy, Eddie. God, I love watching you,” Richie rambles, jerks himself harder and tugs at his hair with his left hand, now free of his phone.  
  
“Stop touching yourself.” Eddie says. Richie pouts at him and thrusts his hips up once in protest. Eddie just stares at him with hooded eyes until Richie slows his hand to a stop. He focuses instead on the pace of Eddie’s forearm, the muscles there taut and straining from the awkward angle. He wants to sit up and lick them. He considers doing it, too, because now that Richie isn’t touching his dick he feels fucking wild with arousal just watching Eddie tease himself.  
  
“Fuck, Eddie, _please_. Either touch me or get your dick out right now. I can’t take it.” He whines, and kicks his legs just a little in a fake tantrum. Eddie’s close enough to him that he can run his toes up his clothed thigh, so he does, leg muscles flexing while he points his toes and stretches a bit. Eddie takes in a sharp breath through his nose at the view, and Richie smirks at him knowingly.  
  
“Your legs are really fucking hot,” Eddie says, and Richie was _not_ expecting that to come out of his mouth, so it makes him blush a little. Eddie juts his chin out to gesture at Richie’s underwear, still only halfway down his thighs. “Take your boxers off.” Richie scrambles to kick them off and then spreads his legs further now that he can, because he’s kind of fucking drunk off the heat of Eddie’s eyes on him. Richie moans when Eddie finally takes his pants and underwear off too, and then wants to scream when he just goes back to stroking himself without even thinking about touching Richie anywhere.  
  
Richie huffs his annoyance but mostly can’t take his eyes off Eddie’s dick, the way precome keeps leaking from the head because he’s squeezing himself so tightly. Richie’s restless with the lack of stimulation, so he starts running his hands along his own chest and down his thighs, his hands framing his cock but still obeying Eddie’s orders not to touch himself. It’s sort of killing him how quiet Eddie’s being, his gaze so intense on every inch of Richie’s body.  
  
“You like my legs?” He eggs him on, stroking the hair on his thighs. Eddie licks his lips.  
  
“Yes, fuck. They’re like fucking... tree trunks, _shit_ ,” He gasps and lets his head fall back for one delicious second before he regains his focus. “I love sitting in your lap when you fuck me, feel so solid under me, around me…” He trails off to stroke himself faster but Richie’s greedy now, can never get enough of when Eddie talks dirty like this.  
  
“I like your legs too, Eddie baby… fucking love when you wrap them around me, can’t help but want me closer even when I’m already fucking you so deep, _fuck_ ,” Richie’s propped up on both elbows now and feels dizzy with the way his eyes keep darting between Eddie’s face all scrunched up in pleasure and his hand flying over his cock. “Eddie, god, I wanna fuck you so bad. Thought about it all day, I almost fucking came in like two seconds just watching you in that video,” Eddie interrupts him with a loud moan and Richie’s head spins when Eddie’s left hand reaches down to cup and squeeze at his balls. “Wanna see you come, Eddie, fuck. Fucking come on me, please, I want you to, _Eddie_ _—_ ”  
  
Eddie chokes out a gasp at how wrecked Richie sounds and his hips start to fuck into his fist, and Richie has to fight to keep his eyes open and watch while Eddie finally comes. It mostly catches in his fingers but some of it gets on Richie’s shin, and it’s a lot sexier than either of them expect it to be. God, Richie’s fucking dying to touch himself.  
  
Eddie gives himself two seconds to catch his breath before he starts climbing on top of Richie, and he knows he’s getting his own come all over their comforter but he doesn’t even care, just splays himself on top of Richie and his big fucking thighs and chest and kisses him deep.  
  
“I can’t believe you interrupted my own jack off session and then got yourself off first,” Richie murmurs against his lips. Eddie laughs and smacks at his shoulder, then looks down between them at Richie’s cock, flushed and straining against his belly.  
  
“So get yourself off.” He says, and Richie almost comes right then at the grit in Eddie’s voice. He doesn’t waste a second, just squeezes himself tight and goes from zero to fucking sixty in no time.  
  
Eddie doesn’t move away, only puts the barest amount of space between them. He’s close enough that Richie’s knuckles sometimes graze his stomach on their way up his shaft, and the whisper of contact is driving them both a little insane. Eddie latches his mouth onto Richie’s neck, the thin skin over his collarbone, the spot right beneath the edge of his jaw that always makes Richie twitch, which he very much does beneath him.  
  
“ _Eddie_ ,” He whines. “Eds, please…” Richie doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, he just _wants_ , he wants Eddie to fucking—bite him, pin his arms down, use him, just _touch him_ , for god’s sake.  
  
Eddie puts his lips to Richie’s ear and asks, “You wanna come, Rich?”  
  
“ _Yes,_ fuck. I wanna come so bad, Eddie, please! Need to come,” Richie’s words start slurring together, he can hardly remember to breathe right when he’s jerking himself at the speed of light and Eddie’s barely even touching him anywhere else.  
  
“If I let you come, do you promise you’ll wash the dishes tonight?”  
  
If Richie’s dick wasn’t painfully hard, he’d probably find the energy in him to laugh at how absurd that request is. Leave it to Eddie to do all this and still be thinking about some fucking chore that didn’t get done. As it is, Richie would say yes to anything right now as long as he gets to finally come. Eddie’s hardly finished asking when he’s gasping out, “ _Yes, yes please fuck I promise, Eddie, I’ll fucking wash them every day for a year, for the rest of our natural born lives, if you let me come, please let me come_ _—_ _”  
  
_Eddie chuckles in his ear. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby,” He sits back to get a full view of Richie, watches him writhe for another minute before he says, “Go ahead and come.” and Richie feels like he blasts off into another fucking orbit with the force of it. Eddie leans over to their nightstand to grab wet wipes and cleans them both off while Richie gasps for air beneath him. Eddie pets at his sweaty hairline, and Richie makes kissy lips at him until he smiles and leans down for one, then two, then three kisses.  
  
Before Richie can sneak in a fourth, Eddie gets his lips just close enough to tease, and whispers, “I wasn’t kidding about the dishes.”  
  
Richie groans and shoves at him, and Eddie falls back on the bed next to him. “I was hoping you forgot.”  
  
Eddie watches him roll out of bed and pull his boxers back on, silently mourning the loss of his view of Richie’s ass. When Richie walks by the end of the bed, he pauses to tickle Eddie’s feet with a wicked grin.  
  
“Stop! I’ll kick you right in your flaccid dick, Dick Tozier!” He yelps. Richie stops and then flips him off on his way out of their bedroom.  
  
“That’s Dick Kaspbrak-Tozier, to you, sir!” Richie calls back, and Eddie can’t keep the stupid grin off his face when he hears the sound of water filling up the kitchen sink.


End file.
